Lured by the Flies
by Tina Marina
Summary: Who didn't have to read this book in school and hate it? Parody awaits! All right, so the boar's head scene is pretty awesome.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am not William Golding; I don't own these rights; I'm not getting paid for this; I'm a little bitty baby of 15; I don't own the Thigh master. 

coughGive me a good reviewcough

Once upon a time, several naughty, naughty boys were stranded on an island.

Ralph peeked up from the stick he was trapped under and shouted, "Blimey! Lookie, here, us trapped on an island and whatnot."

His thoroughly British shouts of amazement awoke Piggy, the fatty who had crushed an entire prickle bush, and as Ralph got up and began exploring, Piggy lumbered after, crushing more foliage as he went.

"Wait up, there," Piggy grunted. "I've got what we call the ass-mar."

Ralph turned to see the flabby mess of sweat and recoiled. "That have anything to do with your actual ass?" he asked.

"No," sighed Piggy, "It means I'm utterly unhelpful in every way. I can barely walk without gasping for breath."

"Perhaps you should spend a little more time on the Thigh-Master," suggested Ralph helpfully.

Piggy grabbed Ralph's shoulders in an uncomfortable way. "Thigh-Master? _Thigh-Master?_ We're at war, man!"

Ralph shrugged off Piggy's grip and replied by taking off all of his clothing.

Piggy nodded. "Perhaps I ought to try out some of your workouts," he concurred. "I stand corrected."

"I'm Ralph," said he. "What's your name?"

"It's most definitely not Piggy," said Piggy. "Call me Joe or Bob or Bill, but my name is NOT, under any circumstance, by any stretch of the imagination, Piggy."

"All right, Piggy," said Ralph absently. He found his knickers and replaced them, along with the rest of his clothing. 

Something glinting in the distance caught Ralph's eye. "Say, what do you think that is down there?" he asked the fatty formerly known as Piggy.

"I can't quite say, but is certainly is shiny," said Piggy. 

Ralph looked at him, disappointedly.

"What?" Piggy whined.

Ralph shook his head and moved his way to the beach. "And you're supposed to be the smart one."


	2. Chapter 2

As Piggy and Ralph approached the glowing shape, they realized that it was actually a conch shell

As Piggy and Ralph approached the glowing shape, they realized that it was actually a conch shell.

"Wow," breathed Piggy. "I think this is a caveman trumpet."

Ralph tried not to look impressed, but when Piggy's grubby little fingers reached for it, he clutched it possessively.

"Blow it!" said Piggy.

For a moment they both stood, lamenting the choice of words there.

Ralph cleared his throat. "You mean blow into it, right?" he asked Piggy.

Piggy blushed deep tomato red. "Yes," he muttered. "You can make quite a noise with one of them things."

Ralph raised it to his mouth and blew with all his lungpower. After several fruitless attempts, he realized that he was holding it upside down, and as soon as he corrected himself, a long, booming note rang across the isle.

Piggy looked with awe. "I wish I could breathe like that," he said in a trembling voice.

Ralph shrugged and tried to look worldly. "I suppose I were just born that way," he said, as other children began to emerge from the foliage.

The littluns, about as useful as four Piggys on a football team, swarmed around the biggest of them all, Ralph. Ralph, proud of his authoritative status, distanced himself about as far from Piggy as possible without him noticing.

"Er," said Ralph, quite eloquently. That was as far as he got before the creature exited the woods. Following the creature was a straggling line of boys in choir outfits. Not enough people knew to laugh, so the crunching of leaves and the count of marching muted Ralph and Piggy's snickers.

"Left, Left, Left Right Left!" bellowed the lanky boy heading the line. He was pale and freckled and his head was topped with a shock of red hair. His choir robe was drenched in screaming sweat (the sweat you can only get from shouting at others) and when he reached the collection of boys, his electric blue eyes surveyed the crowd.

Ralph bristled at this new addition. Who did he think he was, marching in like the Gestapo? He didn't even have a tan! Or fair hair for that matter! No, this punk was not well suited for island life at all.

Jack, the redhead, nodded his head and began to speak. "Well," he mused, "You look like an interesting lot. I think I will kill-er-_join_ you."

Waiting for applause, he was met with silence.

That is, until Piggy began to laugh. Not chuckle or giggle, or snigger, but laugh, out loud with snorting and everything. It was infectious, and those who didn't laugh at Jack laughed at Piggy's laughing.

Piggy gasped and choked out (nearly dying) "_Dress—"_

That was enough to get them all going for a ling while.

Jack turned pale, then purple, then pale again as he struggled for control, but to no avail. Simon, who was a bit delicate, fainted from all the laughing.

Jack muttered to himself, "Stupid dress."


	3. Chapter 3

As the laughter died down somewhat, Ralph cleared his throat and took control.

"Who votes for me?" he asked, trying to look stoic.

A couple of kids raised their hands, mostly to scratch their heads at the word stoic.

Ralph looked around. This was a bit pathetic.

"Who votes for me instead of the crazy skirt wearer?" Ralph asked with a rare stroke of brilliance.

In less than four seconds, every damn hand on the island was up with the exception of two—Jack's. (Really, it was four, since Simon was still passed out, but some one—probably Roger—raised it for him).

Ralph surveyed the scene with satisfaction. "I see I've won," he told Jack diplomatically. "I hope that's all right."

Jack seethed, looking quite a lot like Al Gore in 2000. His face was still red, but he muttered something affirmative and something not to be repeated.

Sensing the fact that Jack was immune to his fair-haired, conch blowing charms, Ralph thought fast to appease the redheaded boy.

"What if," he mused, "We let you lot in the choir be hunters? Assert your manhood and all?"

Jack shook his little head. "What do I need to assert my manhood for? I can sing second soprano—that's the highest out of all of us!" Ralph shook his fair head at him, to which Jack shot back angrily, "You think you can sing higher? I bet not!" He turned to Piggy, who flinched at all the spit flying about. "I bet fatty here can't sing at all!"

"Piggy," corrected Piggy. "That's P-I-G-G-Y Piggy. As in the fat animal."

"Oh, excuse me," apologized Jack. "Well, you'd about keel over if you had to sing my part! It's very high, even for me."

"I sing bass," spoke up the smallest kid in the whole group. It was a bit odd to look at, to say the least, but, after a few songs, they had established the fact that it was true.

"I'm Percival Wemys Madison," he said. "I live deep in the heart of England and I'm Percival Wemys Madison, and my name is Percival Wemys Madison. By the way, let me introduce myself: I'm Percival Weyms Madison."

"All-All right," Ralph said hesitantly. He looked around. Most of the kids were little, about 3 or so feet. There were a few taller ones. A pair of twins, a scary looking one with thick eyebrows, himself, Piggy (who counted horizontally instead of vertically) and, of course, Jack.

"I think," Ralph began in his slow, British voice. "We ought to have a look-round."

"Been done," sneered Jack. "Roger and I have already explored about the whole island."

The thick browed boy said nothing but glowered in agreement.

"Well then," said Ralph, "I will choose a committee for exploration and you shan't be on it."

Jack's stance wavered. He did want to be on something official. Dictatorship was built on organization.

"What the hell," he said, throwing up his freckled hands, "I'm in."

Ralph smirked and pointed out the taller members of the group and poor, sickly looking Simon. "You all come with us, you can be part. And you can be minor, somewhat important characters, too."

"Yes!" shouted the twins in unison. "We're Sam&Eric!"

"All together like that?" asked the ever-finicky Piggy.

They nodded in response—perfectly in unison, of course.

"Let's get a move on, shall we?" asked Ralph.


End file.
